


Philatos

by AutumnQuest



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Memories, One Shot, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnQuest/pseuds/AutumnQuest
Summary: “She cannot see us here. On Pelion.” My most beloved.It started with Briseis asking - When had he known that Patroclus was Philatos? And Achilles, Aristos Achaion, was finally back in the rose haze of his dreamt of life, safely away from the blood-soaked fields of Troy.





	Philatos

Briseis sat opposite him. She lounged with a sort of purpose though she did not expose it for quite a while. He did not care, he was patient from the long years of war. Finally - when the evening was growing quiet and the camps were settling for the night. She outed her purpose.

_When had he known that Patroclus was Philatos?_

Briseis had so rarely asked him questions of this sort. She searched out the company of calming, honest Patroclus more than his. His violence scared her like the hundreds of other soldiers around him, his divinity to her did not seem golden but blood-stained. She had voiced many times how she did not understand how Patroclus could look past his swift and savage feet. How Patroclus did not seem like one to fall to simple vanity of golden looks.

He sat quiet for some time, _why should he answer her?_

He hoped a little that Patroclus would walk in and turn her attention but she sat still - lounging with her purpose.

He looked to his armour, gleaming in the corner and whether bored from lack of battle or longing for a lost dream he spoke…

-

I lay on my stomach. Perhaps I was fifteen, sixteen, it did not really matter for I loved him since his attitude when he addressed me and his ignoring me for days after – I could not have known then either that that was the day before the best discovery of my fate.

My golden hair tangled with the lush green of the autumn grass of Mount Pelion. My eyelashes catching on a rough blade that tried relentlessly to blur my vision but I did not dare to move. I would endure the irritation of the grass catching my lashes as long as I could watch the quieted, rise and fall of my beloved’s chest.

Patroclus’s slow heavy breathes stirred the copper flecks of late pollen in the air. When had I started to mentally think of him as my most beloved? _Philatos?_ When had Patroclus become so much? Was it when he defied my mother – Thetis? Was it the moment he snapped his name to me when he was banished to Phthia? Or the moment he ignored my talent with juggling figs and not bruising them?

-

Briseis insisted on a demonstration but they had no figs anymore and he refused such childish tricks, that time was long past. Her interruption had made him fall silent again. Her lounging figure stilled as her cackling of him juggling like a jester for attention stopped.

He reminisced the simple times in their shared chamber throwing the bags of sand between themselves for hours. Patroclus smiling at the easy trick, his own chest warmed by his smile.

Achilles waited, swept away from the beaches of Troy to a life forgotten, looking to the tent’s entrance willing Patroclus to appear. He didn’t – of course – he was busy tending the sick.

The whim to talk took him again.

-

_Or was it when he ran to me to not be parted?_

When I – myself – finally stopped running after Patroclus had kissed me on the beach? Breathless against the outer wall of the palace fearful my mother had seen. She had – that was another story…

Neither of us had spoken of the beach, opting both to enjoy the ease that we shared beforehand but the ghost of it lingered between us. I dreamt it over and over; over and over until I was angry, furious at my swift God-given feet eating up a distance between us. But now I feared that the time for that was past, Patroclus kept a schooled distance and seemed content.

I was not. I remembered the burning in my gut, the ache in my limbs that was nothing to do with approaching manhood. How silly it all seems now.

Helios was half way to sunset, setting a blazing liquid of gold across the fields, catching the bark of the silver trees and bouncing off the scant jade canopy. Leaves were falling at the slightest breeze, flittering and twitching to the cool earth below, laying dull green on a bed of reds, oranges and browns.

Patroclus rolled his crown of curls in my direction. My breath caught in my throat. His dark lashes shadowed his plump cheeks, his plush lips (I felt their fleeting weight from the beach) parted slightly in an image of satisfaction. I would have stared all evening if I was not so impatient for my wannabe-lover - most beloved - to look at me and speak to me and study and normalise me…

I rolled; shuffling towards Patroclus’s still relaxed body. I lightly touched the tip of my middle finger to his button nose and with a lighter touch still, drew it down over the tip and rested it briefly at his cupids bow before dragging my finger over his plump bottom lip. My finger tip moist from his mouth. I held still - waiting for him to wake – expectant but it seemed my touch was so common to him, he didn’t reflex with unseen worry.

_Was that a good thing I fretted? Did it mean Patroclus was comfortable with my touch or that my touch meant nothing to him?_

I lay my pinkie, ring and middle finger on his smooth cheek and dragged the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip with a bit more pressure – feeling the velvet soft resistance of flesh. His lips parted, a breath of air pulled in and expelled as if he had laid a wake the whole time. I had only briefly worried of this before my thoughts were elsewhere, on his limbs stretching, his stomach flattening as he strained, his hips rising.

Patroclus’s eyes finally opened slow and steady, resting on my face. My cheeks I knew looked cool and unblemished I had been schooling this look since we left for Mount Pelion. Beneath my face burned. Those sleepy brown eyes scrutinising me for waking him. He seemed to always be dissecting me, judging me, challenging me. He seemed to look at me like I was nothing but a typical – boy.

Still now, a typical man. I know that’s not entirely true but he never seems to powder me up or glorify me. He stands beside me.

I rose. Rubbing my fingers over my face. My middle finger wet from Patroclus’s lips darted swiftly to my own mouth and out before any embarrassment could show. It was lewd and felt more perverse than the beach.

“Let’s go swim.” I said.

“Again?” his voice was heavy with sleep.

We had swum earlier that day while the sun was blazing down on us. I knew Patroclus tired quicker than myself, I knew I should let him sleep but I wanted to watch the water slid across his burnished skin and collect and drop from his bouncing curls. I wanted to watch the last light of Helios, soft and pinkish dance on his wet skin before we went to bed.

I felt my cheeks prickle. I wanted to see it so I could dream it differently – I would not run – and for that I was ashamed, _why had I ran the first time?_ For this chance to dream, I was willing to play every trick in the book of Nymphs – all of them the Oreads, Naiads, Dryads – to get what I wanted.

“Yes.” I turned my head to the still lazing Patroclus. Flipping my blonde hair over my shoulder, leaning ever so slightly towards him, my finger tip ghosting his hand. “Please.” I remember I slowly blinked, waving my lashes towards him not breaking contact with Patroclus’ critical eyes. It was my best attempt at charm but I know now I didn’t have to use it.

“I am tired.”

I rolled my shoulders back and down, leaning further towards my beloved, shaking loose my strands of hair, a gentle huff of resignation parting my mouth as if supposed defeat. Pouting my small lips, turning my eyes away as if denying him.

It worked.

“But if you really want to?” Patroclus sat up, “perhaps a quick swim.”

I stood, a swift graceful move that could not be help, I wanted to show him I was not divine. Putting my hand out behind myself expectantly waiting for the warmth of another. Patroclus’s smooth – ever warm – skin slid into mine much cooler, I tugged gently to pull him up.

I ran to the river, flushed and embarrassed but more determined than ever.

-

Patroclus was poised to enter the tent when he heard talks of his fake stretches of sleep and the river that ran Mount Pelion. He remembered freezing when Achilles had started his attempt to disturb his sleep. Either he has forgotten or he did not want Briseis to know but his finger tip had wandered on his collar bone too, dipping into the hollow at his throat. His finger tip circling his belly button before moving to his cheek bone and then his nose…

Achilles’s voice was soft in the sanctuary they had made on the beach, their attempt at the rose-quartz cave they left behind. Through the crack he spied Briseis lounging on the pillows she frequented, he could not see Achilles, but he could guess his face was turned away from hers.

He spoke to himself more than to her, he kept his tales of Pelion close to himself and whispered stories of them sweetly in his ear at night when he feared a battle. As if to ease himself back into a dream.

Patroclus sat at the entrance to the tent, eyes closed, listening.

-

Cool water slipped by between my legs, silky, smooth and strong. I loved the water just as much – only if a little less than – the reluctant figure on the bank.

Patroclus mulled on the river side, looking at the water as if it were Hade’s himself. He slouched with fatigue and dark circles were hefty at his eyes. I felt bad then, Patroclus needed to sleep, he needed the warmth of the furs and the safety of the cave.

-

Briseis bristled exclaiming Patroclus was just as man as he – if not more so. Achilles fell silent again once challenged at his protectiveness of Patroclus.

Patroclus could count his thoughts. He was thinking how Briseis didn’t understand that even Patroclus himself looked at Achilles – Best of the Greeks – Aristos Achaion – as something fragile, something needing protection.

That was called love.

Finally, after some time Achilles began his tale again.

-

“It’s cold.” He whined, his voice breaking a little, pulling his clothes around him tighter like a shield from the vapor of the stream.

I looked into the shallow depths picking out the slim swish of a tail and the reflection of a marbled rock. It was cold – yes – but to me it seemed fine, _what would a Naiad do to lure someone to them?_

I turned to look at Patroclus, his toes tapping the water’s edge. I pondered what would get his attention, there were no figs around. I could not reasonable drown in the water’s depths; I’d have to lie face down for no reason and splash about, it would make him laugh which was equally an option. The water’s bed was smooth as any palace floor so I could not cut my foot or crack my heel.

“Oh-” I left my voice soft and let a sad rejection twinge the breath of air around me. With slower movements as if not to scare a fawn, as if dejected by my only real friend I undid the knot at my waist with deft fingers. I let the material gather on one side of my body, framing my side, drawing attention to the unusual way to disrobe. I turned away from Patroclus faking shyness, pulling my hair over my uncovered shoulder shielding my face. Then I undid the other knot at my shoulder letting the material pool in the water, exposing my back to him, vulnerable.

It was a foreign thing for me such actions, such teasing but I found I did not mind at all as long as he was the one watching. Vulnerability didn’t seem so weak around him.

Ripples of disturbed water hit the backs of my calves, circling out around my still figure, a quiet splashing reached my ears - a lapping at the bank.

“You’ll never dry that now!” Patroclus half chided, half gulped gasped when I turned abruptly to him. We had been nude about each other before but after my teasing strip it seemed different. He flushed, grabbing my clothes and throwing them sodden across the river to the bank, arching droplets of water where his dry clothes lay.

I simple splashed him to ease the unwanted tension, face unconcerned and certainly not shy, I would not show him I was vulnerable but it was too late. He knew.

Patroclus splashed back.

-

We lay in the cool breeze watching Selene drive the moon across the night sky. Her smoothing light creating a serene atmosphere with the low sounds of the woods at night, the trickling of steady water.  

As expected Patroclus’s skin had looked like bronzed glass, glowing in the last light of the sun, his hair weighed down with water, droplets bouncing off as his curls became free from the weight. I lay on my still damp clothes (he was right as always) and watched the last rays of warmth split the surface water on his skin until he was burnish smooth again. His hair dried a shade lighter.

I distilled the image in my mind and ponder how I would dream tonight. I wished I would not dream of my sprinting feet but dream of this moment.

I believe I shivered once, a chill catching the peak of my exposed stomach. It was miniscule, nothing. A passing breath of air perhaps even a disturbed moth, possible just a bodily reaction but definitely not _anything_.

Patroclus frowned mid-conversation about the constellations. He shuffled closer to me. Our arms and legs lined up together. Touching here and here and here.

We both tensed as if expecting the other to move away or worse – again – run. I stilled my treacherous feet but found no flight in them.

When all was still and unmoving, the wood sounds leaking in louder, the river bubbling by - Patroclus shuffled. Bowing his lean back up off his dry clothes to drag the material from under him. He lay on the bare ground, he shivered more violently than I had. With one flaying move he swept the material open and over us.

He said nothing but continued his conversation about certain stars. Pointing at them and naming them but I felt nothing but Patroclus all over my skin. Clinging to me like fine spider webs. Weighing down on me with a solidarity. I will steal this make-shift blanket and forever wear it for myself I remember planning. It was Patroclus that bit of cloth, I must have it I thought.

Patroclus’s skin was ever warm, it thawed mine that I knew could be as cold as gold. When I didn’t respond to some question about a constellation Patroclus turned his head towards me. His hair dragging the brackish sand, his face concerned. I turned my head as well, slowly and spooked, as if Patroclus had heard he was about to be robbed of his clothes.

In that moment a regret was formed, his breath was sweet from fruits on my face and I knew I should have returned the kiss he gave on the beach. I didn’t but I didn’t know either that that did not matter. It was after all, the day before the best discovery of my fate.

Instead he put the backs of his fingers to my forehead, just like Chiron had done to him when he was ill. His brows knitting together. His fingers were cool from the nights air. I now feared that _he_ would get ill.

“Are you cold? We should get back you might get ill.” Patroclus stood pulling me stunned with him. _Was he twinning with my mind? Had we become one?_

I stood quietly as I was methodically wrapped with Patroclus’s clothes, mine still damp on the floor now collected under Patroclus’ arm. He clasped his hand in mine and began to drag me to the cave. To drag me back home. Wrapped like a babe in swaddling that he was father to.

If Patroclus noticed my silences he seemed comfortable with it. I wasn’t about to say I wasn’t prone to illness or being cold when I had succeeded in thieving Patroclus’s clothes, I shall not return them I vowed. I will fall asleep in them too. I’ll admit I felt a little shame because his naked body was riddled with gooseflesh. But, I was so happy with the fuss Patroclus was doting on me and to thrilled with Patroclus leading me. Me - destined to lead men and be _Aristos Achaion_ , swaddled and protected by – Patroclus – _Philatos_.

I followed obediently, watching the back of my beloved’s head swivel and turn with his rapt conversation about the night and ills and medicines Chiron had mentioned. His shoulders relaxed, his muscles growing and changing by the day, his familiar hand loose but fast in mine as if he would never or could never let go.

I knew then that nothing – nought would get between us. For Patroclus did not see a fate or future that was not simple us together – he cared for no other future. Thetis and the Gods be damned. Patroclus had made me a regular boy of no importance except import to him.

Important enough to fuss over for a simple chill and not a divine destiny.

-

The cave was lit by small flames enough to make it safely to the furs without damaging any of Chiron’s things. We crawled into the thick bedding, Patroclus continuing his ministrations, tucking me in making sure no air touched my skin. If Chiron knew he never said.

I was almost afraid he would sleep elsewhere so as not to take up any of the furs but Patroclus climbed in and practically undid all his hard work as he pressed his body to mine, creating a pocket of cool air between us that seemed pointless. So, I wrapped my arms around Patroclus and closed the small distance. I murmured some nonsense about being cold as if to explain my rashness but I could not explain why I nuzzled into his olive scented hair. Patroclus didn’t ask either, he moved closer still.

We slept tight together.

I did not know what Patroclus dreamt of or whether the closeness of our sleep disturbed him. I dreamt of the river that day and the sun on Patroclus’s skin. When I took my clothes off in my dream, teasing him to look, I did not turn around this time I faced him vulnerable. When we lay together and I caught a rare chill instead of letting Patroclus fret I pulled him closer, resting my head in the crook of his neck, letting my fingers dancing over his chest.

 _Perhaps tomorrow I’ll try again? Perhaps the day after I will too?_ And after that and that. Until my fingers have mapped ever inch of his skin in my dreams. _Here and here and here…_

-

But Achilles was saying he didn’t have too. Because that next day his mother visited and he discovered the changing factor in their relationship. He described to Briseis how he ran back to Patroclus waiting in the cave, he had been away talking to his mother most of the afternoon. He could not wait to tell Patroclus.

Patroclus sat closer to the tent door and imaged what the joy on Achilles' face would have looked like as he ran back to the cave from Thetis. But Achilles was saying Chiron stood between us. He described how he waited for the centaur to go to sleep and immediately excused himself and Patroclus.

-

I swept the cave with my eyes and splashed water hazardless over my face. I was not tired. I rushed to the furs and draped them over myself. Patiently watching an alert Patroclus enter, he took me in already in bed and washed his face himself. He was confused – I knew it because I never spoke for him or so quickly left our teachers side.

Suddenly I was fearful. _What if the time truly had passed and there was nothing but common companionship of therapon?_

“You did not ask about my mothers visit.” It was not a question, a statement, I stirred under the blankets unexpectedly unsure of myself or what I was saying. He was fidgeting and focused on the water bowl. Almost with a reluctant sigh he spoke, it put me on ice.

“How is she?” it was his common response, he always asked but hadn’t today. His hands intent at washing themselves clean a second time, water trickling down his forehead. _I sometimes wonder if he knew?_

“She is well.” I was frustrated not at him but at my edging, _why was this so hard to get out, what was I saying?_ I tucked my legs closer to myself as if protecting for a blow but that was foolish.

He had modestly replied, I knew he had no love for my mother, for why would he.

“She says she cannot see us here.”

And so, I said it. To me it was a weight in the room. It hung there between us and again I thought _what was I saying with this knowledge?_ It did not seem to respond with Patroclus, or like I said he knew and was waiting for me to make a move afraid after his kiss. I clutched at the furs – guilt ridden – we had just got our ease back after the beach. His head was nodding as if weighing the words, judging me again.

“She cannot see us here. On Pelion.”

_My most beloved. Philatos._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone that has left kudos, a comment or simply just read!
> 
> Two people have shown interest in being Beta readers for me on future stuff so hopefully things will only get better from here! However, I write for multiple fandoms and more help the merrier. If you like my writing and would like to help me improve for future projects - if you would like to edit an already posted fic for me - please feel free to drop me a message on any of my SNS below. 
> 
> Thank you, Ashleigh.
> 
> Tumblr (Mixed Obsessions) - AutumnQuest  
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